The Three Broomsticks
by DolbyDigital
Summary: "You showed up at my pub wanting a room, and I took you in without question. You've been her for three months, not a word from your family or friends." Rosmerta's eyes were glued to her feet, and it was taking all her willpower not to squirm. "I don't ask – I don't want to know – but do not lie to me."


**A/N –** Written for round 5 of QL (write a character study on Rosmerta) with the optional prompts [quote] 'Let's face it; this is not the worst thing you've caught me doing.' - Tony Stark, Iron Man. and [word] Atmosphere.

Beta'd by Rose and Firefly.

* * *

"Let's face it; this is not the worst thing you've caught me doing," Enid said, watching Rosmerta with a placid expression.

Rosmerta backed out of the room slowly, not saying a word, and closed the door.

"You need to work on that," Enid called through the door.

"Work on what?" Rosmerta asked, rubbing at her eyes as though that could remove the image.

"You need to develop a thick skin," Enid said, pulling the door open and frowning at Rosmerta.

"I do alright." Rosmerta raised her chin defiantly.

'Hmm." Enid watched her critically. "You showed up at my pub wanting a room, and I took you in without question. You've been her for three months, not a word from your family or friends." Rosmerta's eyes were glued to her feet, and it was taking all her willpower not to squirm. "I don't ask – I don't want to know – but _do not_ lie to me."

Rosmerta nodded quickly, wondered at the strong reaction, but didn't ask. She'd never been particularly confident or brave and had never been one for standing up for herself.

…oOo…

 _"_ _Rosmerta!" her mother yelled, barging into the kitchen. "What the_ hell _do you think you're doing?" she hissed. "Your father's going to be home any minute!"_

 _"_ _I know," she whispered, keeping her head down. "I'm sorry. It'll be ready soon."_

 _"_ _It better be," her mother snapped, eyeing the half prepared meal. "He'll be starving when he gets home, and you know he'll blame_ me _," she said. "Oh," her mother added, almost as an afterthought, pointing at the whimpering child in the corner. "Keep your sister quiet, would you? She's doing my head in."_

 _Rosmerta nodded, though her mother had already turned her back and so didn't see the gesture. Rosmerta quickly picked up her sister, rocking the child until her cries quietened, settled her back into the corner with a soft toy._

.oOo.

 _Rosmerta ducked, the glass shattered on the wall behind her head. She stayed curled in on herself, shaking, hoping that if she stayed still enough he would eventually get bored. It hadn't worked before, but maybe–_

 _"_ _What do you think you're doing?" he snapped, grabbing her by her hair and dragging her to her feet. She grimaced in pain but managed to keep her whimper contained – making any sound only made it worse. "You should be_ grateful _," he hissed. "That I put a roof over your head. Your own father couldn't even do that much."_

 _She bit her lip, trying not to cry._

 _"_ _What was that?" he asked, pulling her head back sharply._

 _"_ _I am grateful, Sir," she whispered, the words tasted like ash in her mouth. "Thank you, Sir," she croaked, her voice shaking. He nodded, forcefully pushing her away from him._

 _"_ _Good," he said, looking around the room. "Clean up this mess."_

.oOo.

 _Hands shaking, she rifled through the top drawer of her mother's dresser, looking for the small pouch she knew to be in there. Her heart beat quickly, her pulse rang in her ears, and she felt dizzy with fear. She thought she might be sick._

 _Her fingers closed around the pouch just as she heard the front door slam. Quickly, before she changed her mind, she tucked the pouch into her bra and slammed the drawer closed. She grabbed the laundry basket as footsteps sounded on the stairs and, heart still pounding, she opened the door._

 _"_ _What are you doing?" her mother snapped. "You should have finished the laundry hours ago. You know he doesn't like the noise." Rosmerta nodded._

 _"_ _I'm sorry," she whispered, still struggling to keep her breathing even. "I can– I can finish tomorrow," she said._

 _"_ _You will do no such thing!" her mother shrieked._

 _"_ _Of course. I'm sorry," she whispered. She rushed down the stairs before her mother could say anything else, dropping the basket on the kitchen floor._

 _The baby whimpered from her chair._

 _Rosmerta froze, staring at her sister. The baby quietened, cooing softly at her, and only then did Rosmerta begin to cry._

 _"_ _I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "I– I ca– I'm sorry," she hiccoughed, sniffing loudly. Her sister reached out for her, grinning widely and babbling. "I'll– I'll come back for you," she whispered, turning towards the back door._

 _She didn't look back until she'd reached the end of the street, the memory of the baby's cries still echoing in her ears. She pulled the pouch from her bra, counting the notes inside._

 _Nearly five hundred pounds._

 _She felt a little guilty – her mother had clearly been saving for something – but she pushed the feeling to the back of her mind. She wasn't free yet._

…oOo…

"What is it?" Enid asked, dropping her rag onto the counter. "Don't just stand there gawping," she snapped. "If you've got something to say, say it." Rosmerta shook her head, turning as though to leave. She stopped, taking a deep breath.

"I'm tired of running," she blurted, before she could talk herself out of it again.

"Hmm." Enid nodded, thinking for a moment. "Well, for a start, you can make yourself useful around here." She threw the rag over to Rosmerta. "Finish cleaning the counter. I'll be in the basement when you're done." Rosmerta looked from the rag in her hand over to Enid.

"You're just going to hire me? Like that?" she asked.

"Who said anything about hiring you?" Enid asked, before she let out a loud cackle. Rosmerta winced. "I'll pay you five Sickles an hour," she said. "And you can keep your room, but you're cleaning it yourself."

"But I have no skills," Rosmerta said, mentally kicking herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

"You'll learn," Enid said, disappearing into the cellar.

.oOo.

"I'm so sorry," Rosmerta whispered, swiping her rag ineffectually over the man's lap, trying to mop up the spilt drink.

"It's fine," he said, waving his wand to clear the liquid. "Just be more careful." She nodded, feeling tears pricking at her eyes. "It's fine," the man repeated. She gave a watery smile, sniffed, and cleared the tray and empty glass from his table.

"You clumsy fool," Enid said as soon as she reached the counter. "Don't go throwing drinks at the patrons."

"I'm sorry," Rosmerta whispered.

"Yes. You're sorry, you're sorry," Enid said. "You're always sorry." She tipped Rosmerta's chin up with the tip of her wand. "Next time, use your wand. And stop apologising for everything!"

…oOo…

Rosmerta looked around the pub, head held high. The atmosphere was still the same as when she had first arrived, though of course there was one glaring absence.

Enid still sent her postcards at least once a month, though often once a week, of her various travels. And Rosmerta spent every holiday with her.

She glanced up as the door to the pub opened, a short girl standing in the doorway. Her blonde hair covered most of her face, and she shifted nervously from one foot to the other in a familiar fashion.

"Are you coming or going?" she asked. "Either way, close the door. We aren't paying to heat the street."

"Sorry," the girl whispered, stepping into the pub and closing the door behind her.


End file.
